What Remains
by Ameliamoore
Summary: Jenna is the girl who survived for five days in an apocalypse she didn't know was happening right outside her door. The obnoxious soldiers and curious authorities make her even more desperate to find her sister - even if everyone she asks is convinced that she is either dead or a Walker by now. How much longer can Jenna last before it is time to let go? The teeth are closing in.


JENNA

(Five days after the outbreak)

I wake up to a thundering coming from the door and groan. I try to ignore it and pull the blankets up over my head. There's shouting and the frantic knocking before it escalates to louder, sharper sounds as the whole door vibrates. Somebody really wants to get in.

"Okay, okay, holy hell! Calm down. I'll be right there!" I shout, rolling out from my fleece cocoon. I catch myself in the mirror and barely recognise my own face. My dark hair is a mess of tangles that sticks up at random points and the remnants of my eye makeup give the illusion of a particularly sick panda. I pull the ragged t-shirt down over my stomach but don't bother to put on pants. I stumble across the apartment to the front door and open the deadbolt just as the boy takes another few paces and runs at me.

He falls to the ground at my feet now there's nothing to make contact with. "Are you completely mental? There's no need to break the damn door down!" I shout at the boy. His eyes are wide and his mouth hangs slightly open. He backs into the wall and pushes himself onto his feet, swinging a section of pipe upwards so I'm blocked from him.

"Mind If I ask what on earth is going on?" I snap. He stands up straighter and brushes down his navy jacket. It's at least three sizes too large, he reminds me of a little boy dressed in his father's clothes. He edges around me and into my apartment.

"Get out of there! I'm asking you a question!" I shout.

"Keep your damned voice down. What are you still doing here? The evacuation was two days ago." He says, leaning against the bookcase.

"Evacuation? If this is some kind of joke I'm not finding this very funny. Did Karen send you? I bet it was Karen again. You tell her if she wants to be forgiven she can do it herself." I say. It's been six days since the funeral and I still can't bear to think of it. She ruined everything. I pull the shirt down over my novelty SpongeBob underwear as the boy narrows his eyes.

"Are you joking? I can't tell. Just hurry up and get ready, we'll take you to the next camp on the way out." He says. I'm still hungover if not slightly drunk and my eyes still haven't adjusted to the light coming in from the hallway. I squint at him and clench my teeth.

"Just get out of here and close the door on your way out." I say, grabbing the bottle of whiskey from the coffee table as I walk to the stereo and turn it up as loud as it goes. The pounding of drums blocks out his words so I can't hear him, but his mouth continues to move like he's shouting. He clambers across the mess littering the carpet to the stereo and turns it off.

"Do you have a death wish? I can't believe they haven't found you yet, but they will now. You clearly have some kind of issues. I'd leave you here but the captain says nobody gets left behind. We need all the clean blood we can get." He says. Great, why do I always run into the biggest nutjobs? There's a beep and then a second voice that comes from somewhere within his jacket.

"Williams, report right away. What have you found?" it says.

"Female, uninfected. Possible concussion, she denies all knowledge of the Walkers. I'm bringing her in. Apartments one through twelve clear." he says into a little microphone attached to his collar. I have to disagree, I'm not going anywhere with this crazy little man. Mine is the last in the building, number thirteen. It seemed fitting at the time. He's taking me nowhere. I've got enough budget Cola and Pot Noodles to last me long enough.

"You have ten seconds to leave before I call the police." I say, keeping my voice as steady as I can. I bet the institution has lost another bunch again.

"The police? Now I really know you're pulling my leg. The police are the real joke." He says. There's an air of arrogance in his attitude that really rubs me the wrong way. He grabs my wrist and drags me to the window. I struggle, but he holds tight and throws open the heavy black curtains with his free hand. The light dazzles me, but when they finally adjust I cry out in shock. It catches in my throat, choking me. The streets below are littered with bodies; cars are abandoned in the middle of the road.

"See? The world ended. Didn't you get the memo?" he asks. I assumed the noise over the last few days was just the neighbours; it's not unlike them to have week-long parties that last well into the night. Between the alcohol and the stereo I'm not surprised I didn't notice the world falling to shit without me. Mine was broken long before.

Williams snaps his fingers in front of my face and I startle. "Get a bag and hurry up. It's going to be dark soon, we have to be back for dinner or they'll eat without us. The captain won't wait." He says. I'm too numb to panic so I scrub my face with icy water and run a comb through my hair. I pull off the torn Superman shirt and throw on fresh underwear. Williams thankfully turns around without being asked. Once I'm dressed in plain black pants and a t-shirt I pull over my favourite camouflage jacket and soft brown boots, and then fill the backpack from the bottom of my wardrobe with a second set and the last photo ever taken of my mother, just eleven days ago. Five days before her funeral.

I throw what remains of my food into the bag and swing it onto my back. Williams follows me out and gently pushes his hand into the curve of my back. I snap around and grab his wrist, wrenching it away from me. "Don't you dare touch me ever again." I spit.

"Okay, okay, chill out." He says. He mutters something barely audible about having issues and I try to hold my tongue. We walk in silence down the five flights of stairs and out through reception.

-–-

"Hold your breath until we get to the van" warns Williams. His advice comes a second too late and as we throw open the heavy glass door my lungs fill up with the putrid scent of rotting flesh, ripened by the hot summer sun. I can taste it on my tongue, feel it tearing through my body. I double over and lose what little was in my stomach. The acid burns my throat but even the sour taste of stomach acid and whiskey is better than the taste of this air. Flies buzz around my head, always just too far out of reach to swipe away.

I straighten up and catch my first real glimpse of the outside. The pavement is painted red, discarded limbs litter the road. There's an elderly woman shuffling towards us, I step forward to help her but before I can move her head rolls from her shoulders and towards me. I scream and kick it away, the man holding the axe shouts something at Williams that doesn't register in my head, pointing violently while the offending weapon swings and releases drops of blood in my direction. I feel one fall onto my cheek. Williams grabs me again and drags me to a silvery armoured van a few hundred yards away, pushing me through the open door. It slams behind me and I fall into something warm and soft.

"Ouch! Those are some bony elbows, miss" says the soft, deep voice closest to my ear. I feel a pair of hands push me gently upwards and I turn to sit on the floor of the van this time, not on some poor stranger's leg. I spot Williams' face among those beside me in the half-light.

"I thought I told you not to touch me ever again, and that really felt like touching back there." I say. The other men chuckle and mutter to one another.

"You ought to show more respect to a man with a weapon." Says Williams. I'm ready to retort when somebody beats me to it.

"Face it Williams, you're a small boy with a short stick. You're not exactly the height of intimidation" says the voice, emphasising the last half. He gets a round of real laughter from the men. Williams obviously isn't top dog around here.

"My old dad always said never to trust a short man. His brain is too close to his arse" adds another. The laughter increases and I see Williams' race turn deep red. I don't know what it is that makes me dislike Williams so much but I'm glad to see him knocked down a notch or two. We swerve violently and I'm thrown against the man to my left. This is doing nothing good for my hangover; every bump we hit sends me flying sideways. More than once I have to apologise to the man who keeps receiving my sharp elbows and knees in the side of his body. He doesn't seem to mind too much.

The journey ends after about an hour. The doors are pulled open and the men pile out. I stand to clamber out into the darkness and Williams stands waiting with his hand out to help me. "I'm a woman, not an invalid." I say, jumping out and landing satisfyingly gracefully on the concrete below. We're inside some kind of compound; the high gates are guarded by armed towers every few feet. There's no carnage here, no bloodied hands or bite-ridden feet lie in my wake. I follow the men up to a large metal shutter which slides upwards noiselessly to let us in. Williams is at my side again. I just can't shake him off. "You have a little blood on your..." he says reaching to wipe it from my cheek but I knock away his hand and scrub it with my sleeve. He closes his eyes for a second and straightens.

"You need to register and take a few tests before I can let you join the other survivors." He says. I give a sigh of annoyance and follow him through a separate door to the men. He leaves me once I'm sat in the cold white leather chair in the centre of the room. A young man dressed in pale green scrubs enters. He has a kind face and a soft smile that puts me at ease.

"So, what should I call you?" he asks.

"Jenna. Jenna Walton." I say. He hands me a clipboard and a pen.

"Well, Jenna Walton, you just fill out that form and I'll be back in a few minutes." He says, giving me a quick grin and then disappearing through a second door. I fill in as many fields as I can – Name, age, previous address, blood type and known medical conditions. I leave the latter blank; I can't even remember that last time I had a cold. I don't get ill unless you count hangovers. And I don't.

He returns after a few minutes and takes the board, flicking through quickly. "Now, the commander says that I have to get express consent before I take any blood. Do you have any issues with that? We like to keep up a nice big stock in case anyone gets injured. Yours is O positive, it's pretty useful as it can be given to anyone. Those boys are always betting themselves hurt out there." He says. I tell him I don't mind but still have to force my eyes closed as the needle goes in. I've always hated this part.

When we're done he leads me out again where Williams waits for me. It's like being followed by a particularly annoying Labrador. We walk along the grey corridors and out into a large room set out with tables. I follow him reluctantly to a queue and receive my first real meal in days, but it's still pretty grim. There's a greyish mush that I can't even guess to be anything familiar and a pile of soggy mashed potato. I stand looking for somewhere empty to sit, but eventually give in and walk to the beckoning boys I recognise from earlier. I take a seat between the one I kept elbowing and another older man with a receding hairline and a stern expression. Williams sits opposite me.

"Your name, girl?" barks the man. I'm surprised by his rudeness.

"Jenna Walton. And you are?." I ask with an exaggeratedly polite tone.

"A bit too scrawny, but you'll do. You've got your first scouting mission tomorrow, make sure she isn't late Williams." He barks, then stands and takes away his plate. I let my mouth hang open in shock.

"Who died and made him King Asshole?" I finally spit.

"I think he was the only one in the running. He wishes he was the commander, but thankfully he's just an assistant. He has no real power" says the man to my left.

I try to stomach the tasteless grey mush but my stomach isn't up for it. I push it away after a few minutes. I keep thinking of the moment that old woman's head rolled from her shoulders. "I could show you to the girl's halls, if you'd like." Williams says with his mouth half full. A piece of food flies out onto the table and I wrinkle my nose in disgust.

"Face it; it doesn't look like she'd piss on you if you were on fire. You might as well give up now" says the tall boy beside him. The men laugh in agreement. He drops his head and finishes his meal in silence. The next in the procession of peculiar introductions appears just as I put down my glass.

"Miss Walton, I assume?" says a hard, sharp voice from behind me. I jump and turn, nodding my head.

"Marianne Lumley. I make it my mission to know everybody around here, that way I know if there's any trouble. Anything you need, come to me. Your room is H301, just down the hallway there and through to the next building. Lights are out at 10.30 pm; don't leave the building before morning unless you have a death wish. That will be all. Goodbye, Jenna." She says. Her straight grey hair swings as she strides away, the heels of her shoes clacking against the concrete.

"What did she do before all of this? It's got to be Navy, Marines or Army, right?" I ask. The men look to each other and grin.

"Actually, she told us that she made cat sculptures from her front room and sold them online" says Williams. I give a short, sharp laugh. I knew there was something a little crazy in those eyes. It wasn't the hardships of war; it was the trauma of Paper Mache failure and moisture-induced glitter clumping.

"So Jenna, is it true that you really didn't even know about Walkers until today? That must have been one hell of a party" the tall boy says with a grin. The other men snigger. I'm a big joke to them. The girl who survived for five days in an apocalypse she didn't even know was happening outside her own front door.

"More like an extended funeral where I was the only guest who stayed. My mother, six days ago. There was a ... incident with my sister Karen." I say, trying to justify my ignorance. What kind of person spends six days getting black out drunk and sleeping all day? A loser, that's who.

"We've all lost a family member or two to the Walkers; they're feisty little buggers when they're hungry. You're just lucky she went before the first attack." He says. He realises that he has said something stupid the minute it leaves his mouth but I'm already busy overreacting.

"Lucky? Did you honestly just say that I'm Lucky that my mother is dead? Well, you lot really are a piece of work aren't you." I spit. A few heads turn but after everything I've seen today I think I deserve a chance to let it out. I take my plate and place it on the stack then stalk down the hallway and out into the air.

It's not so putrid here, but there's still a rotting aftertaste carried on the wind. I go right to the next building and find my room. There are three beds; I'm the only one there. I take the photograph of my mother grinning in a pink sundress on the beach and put it on the table beside the final bed which does not already have items spread across it. I pull open the drawer and find a plain grey outfit and a spare wool blanket. I lie down on the rough canvas of the mattress and try not to wonder where Karen is. As much as I'm still angry at her the idea that my sister is dead fills me with a hollow, empty ache that chokes me and forces the air from my lungs.

My two roommates join me after about fifteen minutes, a tall redhead and little brown haired girl who was otherwise almost identical in features. "Hey. I'm Norah and this is Maggie. You're going to want to take those soon, they'll keep away the worst of the nightmares" says the older girl, who looks to be about fifteen. She points to two tiny orange pills and a cup of water on the nightstand.

"I don't have nightmares" I tell her.

"Not yet, you don't. But soon you will." She says, taking her own. I nod and do as I'm told then change into the shapeless white nightgown climb under the sheets. I get the feeling I won't be getting much sleep tonight. This is a lot to take in for one day.


End file.
